


Rubber Duckie, He's the One!

by Trista_zevkia



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:48:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/pseuds/Trista_zevkia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A terrible occurrence brings a spark of hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rubber Duckie, He's the One!

For once, in these multitudinous narratives of my life, if multitudinous doesn’t have only to do with feeding them fish and loves in some miraculous way, I know exactly where to begin! For once, dear reader, I shall not plop you in the middle of the middle, dropping you into the already boiling soup stock, calling for Jeeves. Never fear, Jeeves will be called, to bring his magnificent brain to the aide of king and country, or at least this Bertie Wooster.

I was in the _salle de bain,_ facing a difficult choice. On this crisp fall day, would I announce to the world that it was free of Aunts and aunts in training with matrimonial missions via a rousing rendition of _Putting on the Ritz_ or _Twenty Seven Ginger-headed Sailors?_ Rare are these days, and I decided to enjoy it, by going through both songs! A clearing of the throat, a lungful of air, and a glance up from my rubber duckie to begin.

“Jeeves!” Came out loudly, in something of a manful scream, even as I tried to find my feet. I gave noise to another sound, feeling compelled to explain a bit further. “Fire!”

“I see it, Sir.”

His calm voice was suddenly there, wrapping me in a towel. That is, Jeeves wrapped me in a towel, not his calm voice. Without letting go, he pulled me into the living room, and left me. Rather startled, and feeling as though fleeing was in order, I noticed he’s at the phone.

“What a time to make a phone call!” I spoke forcefully, I refute that I shrieked it at him, so I didn’t hear who he was talking to.

“If you would shut down all the electricity to the building, I will call the fire brigade.”

I decided he must be talking to somebody in the building, the manager or the doorman. If I’d known who to call in an emergency, I would have done so. Except, I did! I called the smartest person I knew, as I do for any emergency, be it life threatening or worse, matrimonial; Jeeves will come through!

While I determined that I did the correct thing, I missed Jeeves’ conversation with the fire brigade, but I’m sure it was polite and firm. Jeeves’ probably calls the fire brigade in the same reasonable, free of urgency or emotion voice that he asks if I’d like another B&S. Which, I find, I could go for now, if it was portable but when I turn to ask Jeeves, he’s at the front closet.

“Jeeves?”

“Your overcoat, Sir. Then we may exit the building if it deemed necessary.”

“It’s a fire, Jeeves! Of course it’s necessary.”

“It is a small electrical fire, with few flammable materials for it to feed on. Your shoes, Sir.”

One could wonder where he got a pair of shoes, but not me. I just slide my sock-free feet into them, and let him guide me into the hall. I expect to stand there, but he knocks on a neighbor’s door. A lesser specimen of valet opens the door and I’m ushered in before I can point out the electricity is off and someone is stomping up the stairs.

Someone else’s valet had me drink a steadying cocktail, but he’s a bit heavy handed with the S in my B&S. He meant well, so I swallowed it without complaint. Jeeves appeared when I lowered the glass, and I got to examine the neighbor’s _salle de bain_ while Jeeves tossed a complete set of togs on me. He shimmered off and I got another substandard cocktail to politely toss back, before meeting my neighbor.

I wondered if his valet kept him in the master bedroom until I was presentable, but by finishing my third B&S, which was starting to win my approval, I forgot to ask. Figure it’s all secrets of the guild anyway. Jeeves reappears, suggesting I take my leave of the neighbor. He is a smart one, knowing that I’ve already lost count of these lovely B&S’s made by the neighboring valet, Carton. He has a nice Irish accent, but blonde hair and a perfectly normal head, so Jeeves’ doesn’t need to worry about being replaced. By a lesser specimen of valet, because Jeeves is my valet, my magnificent gentleman’s personal gentleman.

I stumbled a bit as Jeeves’ helped me into the flat, sitting me at the table for some soup to go with my B&S. He disappeared, to the kitchen I supposed, to retrieve the food that has no association with the burned smell in the air. I got to my feet, deciding I needed to see the damage. The carpet is less than immaculate, showing evidence that a large group had marched by to get to the fire. Opening the door, I saw black streaks and shadows on the wall, cracked tiles, and the bits and bobs of mine strewn about.

I did dart up from the _salle de bain_ in a bit of a rush, though a tub of water might be the safest place in a fire. The soap is there, caked with dirt, and my flannels had all decided to make a break for it, but not gotten far. A flash of yellow catches my eye, a smoke darkened rubber duckie, and I reached for him. He comes up easily enough, but once he was in my hand I could see all of him. Rather, I could see the half of him that wasn’t there anymore. Half is fine, the other half is gone, leaving only a mess of burned, melted rubber as evidence of its existence.

“Sir, a good meal will make you feel better.”

Jeeves whispered behind me, as if at the death bed of a dying fellow, and I realized I was crying. “Bit of smoke in the e.s. Nothing important here.”

I moved to wipe the tears, only to find I still had duckie in my hand. Hadn’t I thrown him away yet?

“I am sorry, Sir, but I feel the toy may be beyond repair.”

“As you say, it’s just a toy. My Aunts will be please to learn of his demise, they’ve been trying to get rid of him ever since Father gave him to me.” It’s the B&S that made my knees and spine turn to jelly, but they’d not jellified my arms yet. It’s an effort, but I handed duckie to Jeeves, and jellied my way out of the room. I pour myself a proper B&S, one with only a drop of S. Jeeves speaks to me, gets me to eating, and made me move where he wanted me. I spent the night in a hotel, with a good supply of B&S.

  
 **J <3B **¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ **J <3B **  


I don’t stay at the hotel long, as the story of the fire subjected me to my Aunts. They looked me over and pronounced I was fit, as if Jeeves would ever let me be anything else! Doris and Dorcus each decided we were engaged, but as I couldn’t tell the twins apart it was the shortest engagement in my long and sordid history, if I don’t mean sordon’t. Would make more sense, since these are things I wish I didn’t do, but did, so don’t do them Bertie!

Still, it’s a long week before I get to return to my apartment, and my man, Jeeves. Good man that he is, he stayed in the Metrop while I eased on out to Easeby and then Aunt Dahlia’s. Jeeves stayed to supervise the repairs and cleaning, and I feel safer knowing he watched them install the electrical bits. I don’t know that Jeeves knows anything about kites and copper keys, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he was on a first name basis with Benny Franklin.

“Jeeves, old fruit, it smells wonderful!” I want to scream his name when I see him, but no point in shouting when he’s at the door before I finish opening it. The apartment does smell great, the roast in the oven and that spicy scent I finally figured out, when Jeeves deserted me for two weeks. He went on vacation and I realized the spice was him. Can one kiss Jeeves, I have been asked. No. Can one bury a noble nose in his hair and sniff for hours? Clearly not. Pity.

“Thank you Sir. May I ask why you have arrived two hours before you were to leave the country?” He slips the question in as smoothly as he gets me out of my coat, hat and gloves.

“Aunt Dahlia suggested I smelled of fish.”

“Perhaps she was referring to the quote, A houseguest is like a fish, both began to stink after three days?”

“Clever that. One of yours?” I ask from my bedroom, that wonderful bed beckoning to me. Nothing quite like sleeping in your own, unless you’ve got the Viking blood of a certain valet and the ability to sleep anywhere. Though I’ll visit the _salle de bain_ before I settle in to wait for that Morpheus chap.

“Benjamin Franklin, Sir.”

“How’s the old boy?”

“Dead, Sir.”

I guess Jeeves can’t be corresponding with Benji then, but they’d probably have been great friends. “Actually, Aunt D was talking of the fish she caught before breakfast this morning. They disappeared and she thought I had something to do with it. I’d only suggested that the door to the storeroom be left open for the cats. I did not, and never would I, mark you, suggest that Anatole had run out of creative uses for fish.”

“I did not know your Aunt enjoyed fishing, Sir.”

“She had to find something to do after a recent bout of laryngitis sidelined her. Not that she wasn’t fully recovered before I showed up, and went to great lengths to prove that to me.”

I’m speaking to the mirror, as Jeeves has gone to ready the _salle de bain._ Freshen up a bit, sing _Putting on the Ritz_ as loud as I want, and then a meal from Jeeves awaited me. I expect it to be a wonderful evening. I do love Anatole’s cooking, he’s a magician with fresh caught fish, but there is something special about Jeeves’ food as well. Perhaps I’m as sappy as a maple tree, but Jeeves’ cooking tastes of home and comfort.

“What did I miss, while whiling the time away?”

“A new play has opened, that I feel you would enjoy.” Jeeves begins, as he works his wonders.

His rich voice is also a comfort, relaxing things I didn’t know were tense, so when I make it into the _salle de bain._ , I almost miss what I see. There are shelves above the tub, were there weren’t shelves before, four little shelves going up the wall at an angle. I have to pick up the items on the shelves before I believe I’m seeing them.

On the bottom shelf is a new rubber duckie. The shelf above that has a rubber duckie in a wig, the blonde curly hair and sailor’s hat fashionable when I was a kid. Above that is a girl duckie, with much longer blonde curly hair. Her dress is red and gold, the kind they wear in India, where my older sister lives. Sorry, I can’t remember what they’re called, but they wrap around. The top shelf is above my eye line, but I can still reach it.

My old rubber duckie, the one lost to the fire, has been carefully trimmed and outfitted in a tailor made suit. His wife duckie nestles up against him, filling in the hole the fire left. Her hair and dress, are the same as my Mother’s, in the only picture I have of all of us. My sister wasn’t wearing the red and gold wrap in that picture, but I was wearing that sailor suit.

There is only one person in my life who would have gone to such effort for a toy, for me. I put the ducks back on their shelves, loving the way the parents look down at their children, and I still have a duckie to bathe with. I’m grinning as I run to Jeeves. He’s sorting through my luggage, working his Jeevesian magic, and looks up at my approach. Before he can ask what I need, before I can change my mind, I throw my arms around him.

“My marvelous marvel!” I’m muttering into his stiff collar. The idea of talking to a collar distracts me, and I realize I’m hugging Jeeves! Now what do I do?

If I let go without having the right words ready, he’ll leave me. Masters don’t hug servants, but now I’ve been hugging him for even longer! How do I explain that I kept hugging him while I figured out how to explain it was a hug of thanks, of appreciation for all he does, for all he does that he doesn’t have to do? Why does he do all that he does? Why hasn’t he pushed me away, suggesting I control myself or go boil my head? Are his hands touching the bare skin of my back? Lord love a duck, I’m hugging Jeeves while naked! He’s hugging back!

He’s hugging back? What’s that about, and why am I even trying to think my way out of this? Grinning to break my face, I decide to stay this way as long as he’ll let me. I get a mental image of the parent ducks on their shelf, snuggled together the way we are now. “Jeeves, I love you so much.”

He doesn’t speak, but suddenly, I can hear his heart beating. It’s almost as fast as mine, until he releases the hug. He had to eventually, I know that, but I regret it all the same. I’m concentrating on feeling the warm spots where his arms and hands were, so it takes me a second to realize he’s cupping my face. A gentle push, and I’m looking into his eyes.

“Sir, I did not hear that last comment. Perhaps you should think through all the implications of what you said before repeating it.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say Jeeves heard me perfectly well and was lying. A lie with a reason, to let me back out of such a crazy thing to say! “Will you leave me if I said what I think you think I said?”

“Sir, I will only leave you if you request it.”

A gentle answer, but it hits me like a train. There’s a doorway here, and I can step over it into something new. Or I can back away, go back to what we were before, lonely master and beautiful servant.

“Jeeves, there is no reason for you to spend time and money making me such a gift, except you knew it would make me happy. Your job is making me happy, and you do, just by being you. You make me so happy, and I do love you. But I can hide it, I’m good at hiding, if you want me to.”

“Sir, my job is to make you comfortable. My heart exists to make you happy. Such a thing is risky, but I do love you.”

It rolls around my head for a long moment, that voice of warmth and comfort speaking of love. I can’t think of a thing to say, so I move my head forward. When I pull back, panting heavily, I now have a very different answer to an old question. Could one kiss Jeeves? Only this one, because I’m not about to share!


End file.
